Because he was so tense, Ji Zhi didn’t even address Duan Zhao as Mr. Duan like he usually did. He didn’t care what he was saying anymore; he just wanted Duan Zhao to let him go as quickly as possible.
After his words fell, Duan Zhao’s movements paused.
Though Ji Zhi couldn’t remember exactly which part of what he’d said had struck a nerve, seeing Duan Zhao stop made his heart leap with joy, and the tension in his spine eased a little.
But before the “all clear” signal could travel down his nerves, Ji Zhi heard Duan Zhao’s voice, laced with a hint of cold laughter. “You’re a straight guy?”
When he’d heard Ji Zhi’s words, Duan Zhao had indeed frozen for a split second. He found them absurd and laughable. If Ji Zhi was straight, then why had he been so entangled with those other two men?
And if he really was straight, didn’t that mean everything from the start had been one big deception?
Ji Zhi: “…”
Ji Zhi’s emotions were incredibly complicated right now.
It dawned on him belatedly that he’d blurted out his true sexual orientation, but it was too late to take it back. Worse, the biggest problem was that Duan Zhao clearly didn’t believe him.
For the first time, Ji Zhi wished there was some kind of proof that he was straight—otherwise, he had no way to convince anyone now.
Ji Zhi: “I…”
From the corner of his eye, Duan Zhao noticed that the car had come to a stop at some point.
The driver had probably stayed silent to avoid interrupting whatever was happening in the back.
Duan Zhao pushed open the car door directly and dragged Ji Zhi toward the house. He gripped Ji Zhi’s wrist so tightly that the other man couldn’t break free.
Ji Zhi had been about to shout for help the moment they got out of the car, but a glance at his surroundings made the sky fall on his head.
The area was clearly a private residential neighborhood. The car hadn’t pulled into a nearby garage but had stopped right at the villa’s entrance. The wrought-iron gate leading outside was already closed, cutting off his escape route.
A few people emerged from the villa, but their gazes all fixed on Duan Zhao. They asked eagerly why he’d come over so suddenly, treating the man being dragged by his wrist as if he were invisible.
Ji Zhi could only despair as Duan Zhao hauled him inside.
Duan Zhao didn’t actually live in A City, let alone spend much time at any of the countless properties under his name. This villa was one he rarely visited, and its black-and-white decor gave it a stark, chilly air.
He dragged Ji Zhi straight into a room and flung him onto the bed.
The short walk from the car to the villa had given Duan Zhao a moment to cool his head, but he didn’t use it to release Ji Zhi. Instead, he yanked off both their ties, swiftly knotting them together before securing one end to Ji Zhi’s wrists and the other firmly to the bedpost.
Ji Zhi wasn’t Duan Zhao’s match to begin with. His earlier frantic struggles had been like a last gasp of strength, exhausting him completely. Now, thrown onto the mattress, he felt dizzy and disoriented. By the time he gathered his wits, his hands were already bound.
Duan Zhao’s movements were so practiced that Ji Zhi couldn’t help suspecting whether he’d done this before… or if he’d rehearsed it countless times in his mind.
Ji Zhi anxiously tried to speak up, but Duan Zhao cut him off, already anticipating more excuses. “No matter what you say—whether you’re straight or not—it’s too late.”
Even if Ji Zhi was straight, he could no longer let go.
He could no longer trust Ji Zhi either. He’d only believe it after verifying the truth for himself.
Duan Zhao had no intention of explaining any of this to Ji Zhi. He was about to resume his inspection when his phone rang abruptly, the sound piercing the quiet room.
Ji Zhi quickly realized the ringtone was coming from Duan Zhao’s phone. He thought it might buy him a moment to catch his breath while the other man took the call. But even after it went to voicemail, Duan Zhao showed no sign of answering.
The ringing started up again almost immediately, as if determined to keep going until Duan Zhao picked up.
Duan Zhao frowned, his gaze finally shifting to the phone. With uncharacteristic impatience, he grabbed it and saw the caller ID: a call from Fu Zhen, Fu Huixu’s father.
Though he’d expected the man to call, Duan Zhao had no desire to answer right now. He meant to silence it and pretend he hadn’t heard, but with half his attention still on Ji Zhi, he accidentally hit the accept button.
Duan Zhao’s frown deepened. Such a slip was utterly impossible for him under normal circumstances.
It was too late to hang up now. Fu Zhen’s voice already emanated from the other end, low and stern with authority. “Mr. Duan, what exactly is going on here?”
Ji Zhi had been ready to yell for help into the phone regardless, but upon hearing that voice—similar to Fu Huixu’s yet far more imposing and commanding—his heart quivered. It felt like calling his boss out of the blue, bracing for a scolding at any second.
But he didn’t get to hear more, because Duan Zhao had already carried the phone toward the door.
Duan Zhao showed no reaction to Fu Zhen’s voice. He was simply thinking about how to end the call quickly—Ji Zhi was still waiting for him, after all.
Fu Zhen’s voice continued. “I know my son threw the first punch, but is there some reason behind it…?”
Though Fu Zhen tried to keep his tone even, a glance at Fu Huixu beside him brought anger seeping through anyway. He hadn’t expected to hear about his son getting into another fight since that high school incident.
This time, it had happened at a banquet with business partners. Fu Zhen couldn’t just send his secretary like before; he’d had to come check on things himself.
When the banquet host had hinted obliquely that Fu Huixu had struck first—and that the target was Duan Zhao—Fu Zhen had grown suspicious. Fu Huixu had only ever thrown the first punch back in high school because some persistent gay guy wouldn’t leave him alone. Everyone at the banquet knew who Fu Huixu was; no one would dare lay a hand on him.
And Duan Zhao? With his personality, how could he possibly get into a conflict with anyone?
After seeing Fu Huixu, Fu Zhen’s doubts only deepened. In his impression, his son was always the picture of composure. Yet here he was, looking utterly enraged, barely held back from charging out by a few wary bodyguards. Fu Huixu ignored his questions, muttering only about finding Duan Zhao.
So Fu Zhen had called Duan Zhao instead.
Fu Huixu’s strange state made Fu Zhen reluctant to leave. His doubts lingered, so rather than rushing to apologize, he wanted to hear Duan Zhao’s side first.
Duan Zhao had already prepared his response. He gave it without hesitation. “Fu Huixu has taken a liking to my lover.”
Fu Zhen: “……Your lover?”
He recalled Fu Huixu mentioning not long ago that he’d found someone he liked and wanted to be with. Now he’d set his sights on Duan Zhao’s lover?
Or were they the same person?
Before he could process it, Fu Huixu’s furious outburst came from nearby. “What do you mean, his lover?!”
“Ji Zhi is mine…”
Fu Zhen’s head throbbed even more.
If the man in front of him didn’t look exactly like Fu Huixu, he’d swear it was someone else entirely.
Though Fu Zhen hadn’t put it on speakerphone, Fu Huixu pieced it together from his words. The term “lover” especially grated on his already frayed nerves. Even though his raised voice wasn’t aimed at the phone’s microphone, Duan Zhao heard it crystal clear on the other end.
